


Workin' Up a Sweat

by iaintafraidofnoghostbear



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018 NHL All-Star Game, Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaintafraidofnoghostbear/pseuds/iaintafraidofnoghostbear
Summary: Claude takes Nolan along with him to the 2018 ASG as a treat for the boys.
Relationships: Nolan Patrick/Other(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 151





	Workin' Up a Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> I do have ideas for who is who and have included those in the end notes if you're interested! Please note there is NO inclusion of Patrick K*ne in this fic.

“Baby slut,” someone croons, and the rest of the men in the room laugh. Nolan’s face is already hot, but he swears his blush deepens. He’s panting, the bitter taste of come heavy on his tongue. He’s sucked three of them so far, the last one having used his mouth roughly and leaving his lips tender, throat sore. With the blindfold, he couldn’t say who they were, though he tried his best to place them by the sounds they make, the rumble of their voices. One he thinks was Swedish, his curses sounding a lot like Oskar and Robert, but Nolan still can’t figure out who he was. 

A hand lands on the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. “Hands and knees.” 

Nolan does as he’s told, shuffling his knees further apart in a way that garners another laugh from the men around him. 

“Fuck, look at that hole. Pretty pink. Bet he’s tight.” There’s a chorus of agreement that makes Nolan’s face burn. He’s glad they can’t see his eyes and the way he has them squeezed tightly shut. It’s almost easier not to watch or see them. 

“Lube.” That voice, at least, Nolan recognizes. Claude’s tone is firm, all captain. 

There’s some shuffling, then cool fingers are tracing Nolan’s hole. He tries to relax, trusting that Claude’s looking out for him. Those fingers press inside, the aching stretch of them going right to Nolan’s cock and making him pant. He moans softly when the man behind him starts to fingerfuck him and that stirs up another round of chirping. 

“Fuck, he is a slut.” 

“Loves it, look at him take it.” 

“Bet he’s gonna get loud if he’s moaning already.” 

Nolan’s stretched open, the fingers inside him spreading on every outstroke until the tip of a third can just wedge inside. They retreat, and only a moment passes before the head of a cock is pushing into him. 

“Fuck yeah. He is tight and wet. Just like a cunt.” 

Nolan whines and ducks his head, but nobody pays him any mind. Instead, the man behind him settles into fucking him, heedless of making it good for Nolan. There’s still murmurs and chirping, people encouraging the man fucking him to give it to him harder, faster; but there’s also the sound of skin on skin, guys jerking off as they watch and it makes Nolan’s cock drip. 

“Give it to him,” Claude calls. There’s footsteps, then someone is pulling Nolan’s head up by his hair. He gasps, but it’s cut off by a cock thrusting into his mouth. It doesn’t go deep enough to make him gag, thankfully, even as the man thrusts a handful of times before coming. Nolan swallows that load, and the one after it. He gets a brief respite when the man fucking him starts to drag him back onto his dick, using Nolan’s hips as a handhold. He grinds in deep as he comes, spilling inside Nolan as he groans out loud. 

“Thanks, kid,” is all the man says before giving Nolan’s ass a slap and pulling out. 

Nolan’s not left empty long, of course. The next cock is longer, driving in so deep that a small cry escapes Nolan’s lips. This one doesn’t pay him any attention either, though, and soon enough someone else is thrusting into his mouth. 

It’s a surprise that, after a few more cocks have spilled into both ends of him, what gets pushed into Nolan’s mouth next is a straw. “Drink,” a soft, accented voice directs him. It’s not Claude, but it sounds half-familiar, the way a handful of guys in the room do. Nolan drinks the water, grateful to get the sticky-bitter taste washed away for a little while, and for the way the icy water cools him slightly. 

The next guy flips Nolan onto his back, practically folding him in half before driving in. This angle is different, better and it seems like the guy is trying, grazing Nolan’s prostate more consistently than the others had. 

“Yeah, he fucking likes that, doesn’t he?” a voice calls out, and Nolan realizes he’s been moaning out loud. He tries to stay quiet, biting his lip, but the man fucking him seems to take it as a challenge, angling hips until Nolan’s crying out despite himself. 

He’s close, so fucking close when the guy comes that he sobs a little bit. 

“Better make it fast,” Claude tells the next man as he touches Nolan’s hole. “He’s close, and he can’t take it after he’s come.” 

“Can you get on your knees? It’ll be easier for you.” This voice Nolan recognizes too, and he wonders which opponent is rolling him over after he nods, fingers pressing up into him despite the mess of come dripping out of his hole. 

Nolan understands why the man thought this angle would be easier when he starts to push in. His cock is thicker and longer than the rest, stretching Nolan inexorably. It almost hurts, almost makes him ask to stop, but the hands on his waist are gentle, petting over his skin. Carefully, they slide up Nolan’s chest and help him to sit up so that he’s in the man’s lap, speared open on his dick. 

“Oh god,” Nolan breathes out. He’s so  _ full _ , and he swears he can feel the throb of the man’s cock inside him. 

“Not too much for you, is it babyslut?” Someone asks, and Nolan shakes his head.

“Good thing Lundqvist sat this one out. I don’t think your boy could handle it, Giroux.” 

“You’d be surprised.” Claude’s voice is soft, almost fond even as his response garners more laughter. 

Slowly, the guy inside Nolan starts to move. He braces Nolan up, using his strength to guide him on his dick. Every thrusts punches the breath right out of Nolan’s chest, and he knows he’s gonna come. The cock inside him is dragging along his prostate, long thrusts in and out that have him whimpering. 

“Give it to him!” 

“He’s gonna come without even a hand on him.” 

“Are you?” the man fucking him breathes against his ear. “Can you come without me touching you?” 

Helplessly, Nolan nods, whimpering. He can. He’s done it before, for Claude and he’s pretty sure he can now. 

“God. Do it. Come whenever you’re ready, I’m so fucking close.” 

It takes about a dozen more thrusts, but then Nolan is arching forward, crying out as his body clenches around the cock inside him. It’s so thick, dragging in and out of his spasming hole that it nearly hurts, but with a couple of sharp thrusts, the man follows after him. 

Nolan’s left limp in his arms, panting hard. Aftershocks ripple through him, especially when the man guides him up and off his dick. Nolan’s laid gently out on towels spread over the locker room floor, given a moment to catch his breath while the men move around him. 

“You don’t share any of those,” Claude orders, and Nolan realizes they’re taking pictures, which makes his face burn all over again. He knows he’s right when gentle hands lift and spread his legs so his wet, used hole is visible and they hold him that way for a few long moments. 

“I’ll send you the video later,” someone else tells Claude, who thanks him quietly. Nolan can feel his soft dick twitch at the thought of the video; Claude had promised they would watch it after, so Nolan could see himself and finally see who had fucked him, who had called him a slut. 

Eventually, Nolan starts hearing the doors opening and closing and figures the players must be filtering out. He’s glad when Claude helps him sit up, bearing most of his weight. 

“You ready for this to come off?” Claude asks, but Nolan shakes his head. 

“When they’re gone?” he whispers, getting a kiss to his temple for his trouble. 

“Of course. Are you hurting?” Shaking his head again, Nolan sighs quietly in relief when that seems to be the end of Claude’s questioning for now. 

The room is bright when Nolan blinks his eyes open after Claude unties the blindfold. It’s empty, save the two of them, and Nolan’s pile of clothes. Claude strips to help him shower, gently cleaning Nolan out and helping him to dress before they head back to the hotel. 

**Author's Note:**

> The mentioned Swede is Oliver Ekman Larsson.  
The first man to fuck him is Steven Stamkos.  
The second man is Marc Andre Fleury.  
The second to last man to fuck him is Pekka Rinne.  
The last man to fuck him is Sidney Crosby.  
Among those who fucked his face: John Klingberg, Zach Werenski, Brayden Point, Brock Boeser, and Auston Matthews.  
Among the others who fucked his ass: Carey Price, Tyler Seguin, Blake Wheeler, and Braden Holtby.  
Holtby brought him water, and Wheeler kept calling him 'babyslut.'


End file.
